How Did We Get Here?
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: Tony's reflecting on his and Ziva's relationship. TIVA story. Spoilers: Thru "Cloak". I want to thank Chauncey and seattle for all their wonderful beta work. It'd be crappy, otherwise.
1. How Did We Get Here?

**Title: How Did We Get Here?  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Rating:** M  
**Spoilers:** Through "Cloak" (6x08)  
**Author's Note:** This is only my 2nd NCIS fic, so please be gentle. It's intended as a one-shot.  
**Disclaimer:** NCIS belongs to CBS and other people. Not me. I'm just playing with the characters.

**N C I S**

Some days Tony DiNozzo wondered what the hell they were doing.

Pacing the foyer might be considered out of character for those who knew him, but he couldn't help it anymore. _She_ would be knocking on his door any second and the anticipation hummed at every nerve ending from his fingertips down his spine.

He damn near jumped at the sound of the buzzer and frowned in reaction. Yanking open the door, though, everything in him softened a fraction. Even the jolting shock at seeing her again mellowed into a sigh.

"Hello, Tony," Ziva David murmured, not waiting for an invitation to enter.

As she passed him, she rubbed her body against his, and he could have sworn he heard her quick intake of breath; but when he glanced, she looked calm.

Closing the front door with exaggerated care, Tony could control the tremors in his hands. Turning to face her, he was surprised by her… assault.

Ziva's mouth latched onto his and awareness shot through him. Everything about her felt hard and rigid, even as her lips worked over his, but he understood. It had taken him a few months to figure out her moods and how cases changed those moods. Her demeanor might appear serene, but the need to be reminded that she was alive would drive her at the worst of times. Today had been one of those times.

Using his hands to push away from the kiss, Tony leaned his cheek against hers, feeling her harsh breaths on his neck.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured. A dead little girl led her to this particular mood.

"Did you _see _the child?" she asked, not hiding the small sob as he gathered her close. "Did you _see_?"

His little ninja could scare the crap out of him at times and infuriate him at others. Most didn't see the depth of emotion of her core or the passion within. Standing over a child – finding the guilty – she'd looked so lost earlier that day, hitting him in the gut like a sucker punch. Small, unrevealing comments added up over time outlining in dark gray the lines of her fears. How anyone could have grown up in a country constantly under attack and still come out as sane as she surprised him. They'd built up her miseries, though –standing over the corpse of a five year old girl brought those miseries alive.

It had taken everything in his power to keep his arms at his side and resist the temptation to pull her toward him in interrogation's observation room. To everyone else, she would have looked so detached; but he'd felt the waves of pain and rage pouring off her like a waterfall.

When the threatening tears suddenly spilled over, Ziva averted her eyes to stare at the ground.

"Don't," Tony said, lifting her chin. "Look at me."

Cupping her cheeks with his palms, he wiped away the moisture with his thumbs. Then it struck him just how deeply he'd dug himself into this affair. That he couldn't stand to see her in pain said more than words.

Staring into her eyes, it stunned Tony to realize just how much she meant to him.

"Christ, Ziva," he murmured, leaning in to lay a whisper soft kiss on her forehead; then her cheeks and finally her lips. Leaning his brow against hers, he whispered, "How did we get here?"

The confused, wobbly grin she gave him made him smile… as did her reply.

"I drove here, Tony," she said, with a 'well duh' inflection to her voice.

Chuckling, he lightly shook his head.

"What I mean is... how did we get _here_? When did this become more than just working each other out of our system?" Smiling, he ran the fingers of his right hand down her cheek and quietly asked, "When did you and I become so thoroughly 'us'?"

He'd watched the skin under his fingers quiver at each touch and was enthralled as they ran down over her chin and neck. She was so damn beautiful – the way she tilted her head just a little; how she so willingly exposed that vulnerable part of her neck to taste at will; mewling just enough to drive him crazy.

Pulling her into a kiss, his smile was wiped away by the feel of her hands on the flesh of his abdomen, running idly under his t-shirt. The taste of her – honey sweet – made him moan into her mouth and he went hard with anticipation. Every muscle came to life, although every time she ran her fingers across flesh, that very sinew quivered for her.

"I want you," he panted into her mouth. Sweeping his tongue along her lower lip, he gladly captured her gasp when he yanked up on her lacy sleeveless top.

"Then I am yours," she rasped, gripping his hand and leading him to the bedroom – one with which she'd become very familiar over the last eight months.

As he followed, Tony wondered if maybe he hadn't gotten in too deep, because he was pretty damn sure he loved her. He just had no idea if she'd kick him in the balls or drive him over the edge with sex if he said the words. She could be pretty unpredictable.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't realized Ziva had pulled her top over her head, leaving her standing in low rider jeans that hugged her hips and a scrape of black lace over her breasts.

"If you're trying to kill me, then I'll die happy," Tony said. He'd bet anything his eyes looked glazed.

"I am not trying to kill you. Although, I believe the French refer to an orgasm as La Petite Mort. The little death," she replied, raising an eyebrow at him. Turning away, she made a show of unhooking her bra and letting it slide to the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "Would you like a little death tonight?"

As she turned, it struck Tony hard in the chest how beautiful she was – and that she was with _him_. Not some other guy. Him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched her approach, hungry for those peaks that had already tightened into pebbles. He must have surprised her when he reached out, grabbed, and yanked, because she squeaked just a second before he suckled. Hard at first, softer after she gasped. Alternating between nibbling and sucking, he felt her writhe, unable to stand still between his legs.

When his hand wound through her hair and pulled insistently back, he looked down into her eyes and said, "I love you."

Ziva remained silent, and Tony began to get nervous – his heart thudding hard in his chest.

When she smiled wide, Tony breathed out in relief. Maybe she wouldn't beat him to death for saying the words after all. He'd been scared for awhile that he would tell her what he felt and she'd simply laugh it off or end what they'd built.

As she broke her gaze, he felt the warmth disappear, leaving him cold without her heated eyes touching him. He splayed his hands across her abdomen, reaching behind to wrap his arms around her waist, and held her close. With his cheek resting against her breastbone, he pulled her tighter. If he could have, Tony would have wrapped her with himself from head to toe.

Inhaling, he let himself drift in the dusting of perfume she wore, along with the heady, earthy scent of her arousal.

It nearly sent him over the edge when she said, "I love you too."

After that, everything moved in slow motion. Each touch sent jolts through him in a way never before. As she climaxed, he nearly got drunk on the smell of her pouring over him. Moving within her, he let her shuddering body drag him over the crest; gladly, he fell. Together, they panted, their harsh breaths echoing through the room. The feel of her lips running across his neck had contentment settling over him.

When he finally left her body, the cold poured over, drawing him back to hold onto her so tight, she softly said, "Tony. You are compacting me."

His mind reacted slowly, and it took a few seconds before he frowned and replied, "I think you mean _crushing_. I'm _crushing_ you."

"Yes. You are," she said after he loosed his grasp only a fraction. Holding her in a little less of a death grip, he began to drift to sleep. The feeling of satisfaction made him sigh as Ziva wiggled her backside against his groin. He felt her breath even out and had to swallow a chuckle. She could sleep so easily, drifting into unconsciousness on a dime. Within minutes, she'd be snoring.

"I really do love you," he murmured, feeling her wiggle even closer in response.

Smiling he thought back over all the time they'd been spending together. Sure, it started off as something primal. It felt good, though. Somewhere along the line, _she_…_this_… had become a necessity to his sanity, and he couldn't think of life without it.


	2. The Beginning of Us

**Title: How Did We Get Here?  
Author:** CSIGeekFan  
**Rating:** M  
**Spoilers:** Through "Cloak" (6x08)  
**Author's Note:** Well, it started as a one-shot. It's being added onto, though. I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

**X X X**

Waking up with a beautiful woman always made Tony happy. But opening his eyes with Ziva wrapped around him filled him with contentment. Smiling down at the strands of hair that thickly covered his chest, he smiled wider and thought about the last eight months they'd been together.

He could clearly remember every encounter – every touch, every taste, every smell, but none came through so crystalline as that first night. That first time together.

**X X X**

**Eight months ago…**

The feelings she'd evoked had started long before they ever started the affair. But finding out Agent Michelle Lee had betrayed the country and Gibbs hadn't brought the team in on it, Tony felt rage boil through every cell in his body. He'd unloaded on Ziva – taken his anger at the world, and NCIS in particular out on her. It hadn't been fair, and it sure as hell hadn't been nice. He just hadn't known how to tamp it down, so instead he danced.

It had seemed like they'd been dancing forever. One-two-three, _look_, two-two-three, _long for_, three-two-three, _dare not touch_.

Tony had gotten sick of it all. He couldn't figure out where he'd lost his faith. Instead of being part of a team, he'd felt like an outsider wishing to be any place other than NCIS. Rather than being Gibbs' right-hand-man, he felt like a faded version of a puppet.

At the end of the day, he'd gone home to drink a beer and glower at the world in general.

Closing his eyes, Tony slumped farther into the couch, wishing the day hadn't happened.

"_Gunshot went off. I saw you…" Ziva said, her voice fading..._

"_I'm tired of pretending," Tony replied._

"_So am I."_

_The tension seeped through as the elevator doors slid open. With the fading adrenaline, bone-deep fatigue set in and he ground out, "It's dinner theatre for an audience of one." Walking out the door, he added, "When's the curtain go down?"_

He'd left her standing alone in the elevator, knowing full well she hurt as much as he did. Yet he couldn't do a damn thing about it anymore. He was too tired, too confused, too angry about it all.

Then everything had really gone to hell. It hurt that his boss – Gibbs, the man he revered – hadn't trusted him or Ziva enough to let them in on the big plan.

Yeah, the sting had been slightly tempered when Gibbs had said he figured Tony could handle it; but doubt still sat there weighing on Tony. Maybe on a logical level he got it, but goddamn it, how many years would he have to dedicate to the job before Gibbs let him in a little more? When would he earn the right to be more than 'DiNozzo' and a smack on the back of the head?

The argument, the backing down, the sagging adrenaline all took a toll eventually. At the end of the day, Tony ended up back at his usual place – on his couch, drinking a beer, and frustrated.

Alone again.

He dared not sleep, because while he could hold the image of his beautiful Israeli partner at bay during the day, when he closed his eyes she found him. It had gotten so much worse after Vance had split up the team.

The transfer had given him too much time alone on the ship. He really doubted Ziva would understand how much those pictures of her in a bathing suit, tacked to his wall meant to him in the darkest hours. When he really wanted to crawl out of his skin, he could look or touch, and even in the distance, she calmed him – soothed the cold fury.

Taking a swig of his beer, Tony frowned, because in the dim living room she invaded his waking thoughts. The look on her face and the catch in her voice when she talked about watching him get knocked unconscious pulled at him in a way he couldn't describe.

Taking a sip, he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. With his feet propped on the coffee table, he flipped on the television and stared blankly in front of him. Another day, another fucked up dollar earned. Days like that one, he hated his job, and Tony wished more than anything he'd installed a punching bag. Part of him wanted to beat the hell out of something. Yet he couldn't seem to muster up enough energy. The shots of adrenaline had sucked him dry.

When the buzzer went off, he barely had enough energy to turn his head and stare at the front door. When it buzzed again, he finally dragged his feet down and plodded over to grab the knob. Swinging it open, he let out his breath and bit back a groan.

"What are you doing here?" he quietly asked the brunette who stood hesitantly in front of him. "Go home, Ziva."

The moment stretched on as they simply stared at one another. He really didn't have the time or patience for an interrogation. Or even a staring contest. When she didn't move or speak, Tony stepped back and grabbed the door. Intending to say good night, he never got the words out before she launched herself at him – grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt and kissing him.

It wasn't nice or gentle. Years of raw need roared through and Tony felt every ounce of his well-cultivated control slip right through his fingers. The hard gasp that erupted from her throat when he pulled open her shirt had him smiling in feral satisfaction.

He could hear her harsh breath in his ears, interrupted by mewling and whimpering noises, as he fondled the tight peaks buried under the black sheer bra he found hidden under her cotton blouse. His own heart hammered in time with his ragged breaths, and with each pulse he grew harder.

Without a word, Tony grabbed Ziva by the waist and lifted her easily to straddle him, before slamming the front door. It surprised him how light she felt – and hot. Waves of heat poured off as he stared into those eyes, black and glazed with passion.

"If you don't want this, tell me now," he rasped. As he stumbled his way to the bedroom, she kissed him in response.

He took great delight in removing her clothing. The slacks slid down enough to reveal sheer panties matching the see-through bra. There was no mistaking the moisture he found between her legs. Enthralled, he watched her firm stomach muscles shift and ripple when he ran a finger under the hem of the sheer panties. His eyes snapped up to her face though when he unceremoniously thrust a finger into her and she arched off the bed.

Tony didn't think he'd ever seen anything so erotic in his life and bit back a groan when she opened her eyes to stare at him. He watched her eyes flare as he pulled her panties down and over her feet.

Without a word, he shucked off the dark gray t-shirt he wore and slid his jeans down to his knees. One thing about having a bed a little higher off the ground – when he pulled her forward and leaned, they lined up perfectly.

He filled her with a single thrust, stopping himself only when he'd embedded every solid inch into her. The only thing that penetrated his brain at that point was the look on her face – tight with something primal. Slowly, he drew back and watched her seductively wriggle under him, almost demandingly.

This time, he plunged harder and watched her gasp and arch. It took only a few times before her hand brought his to her swollen folds to stroke and rub. Which he took great delight in doing. With every touch and squeeze of the swollen nub, Ziva squeezed him harder as he slid in and out of her slick heat.

When she came, it felt like she'd surrounded him with liquid fire. That sweet clenching made him tighten in response. Finally, with a last hard thrust that moved her up the bed, Tony poured himself into her.

Breathing hard he reached up, still fully inside her, and ran his hands over the taut peaks of Ziva's breasts. Her erratic breathing seized when he pinched and she clenched tight around his still turgid erection, milking the last of his offering.

Leaning down, he licked at the salty sweat between her breasts and rested his weight on his arms above her. The scent of her filled him and his mind was fogged enough to not really understand what the hell had happened. Only one thing clearly rang in his mind.

"Stay with me," he whispered, staring into her eyes. When she opened her mouth, he quickly laid his fingers across her lips. "Stay with me."

At her abrupt nod, Tony gathered Ziva close and maneuvered them toward the head of the bed. She fell asleep quickly, while he smiled and kissed the top of her head. He didn't have a clue where they were heading, but he couldn't deny that something existed.

The feel of her soft skin against his, the small bruise from his fingertips on her skin just a little too hard, the scent of them mingling in the air… it couldn't be wrong. Could it?


	3. Loneliness

**Author's Note:** This started off as a one-shot. Each chapter is fairly self-contained, as I don't know if I will add more or not. I want the story to remain independent as a whole so that if RL happens it won't read as a WIP. Constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you in advance for your reviews.

**X X X**

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tony watched Ziva stride out the door toward the kitchen. The woman never simply walked – she sauntered rarely, stalked a great deal, and strode with purposeful intent almost always. And she mesmerized him. It seemed like just yesterday they'd been strangers. To know what it felt like to love someone – _really love someone_ left him a little breathless and exhilarated.

"Are you coming?" Ziva asked from the doorway. Apparently, she'd returned when he hadn't immediately followed.

Standing, he tucked his crisp, white dress shirt into his slacks and slid his tie over the back of his neck.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "On your six."

"What were you thinking?" she asked after they reached the kitchen, and as he poured rich, black coffee into a mug. Nice and strong.

He thought about the question as he made a show of inhaling the thick aroma deep into his lungs. With closed eyes and a comedic expression, he took his first sip, flung his eyes wide open and said, "Wow! Now _this_ is coffee."

"I'm serious," Ziva stated, stepping closer to him in the kitchen. From the look on her face, she _was_ serious; and from the way she held her arms so close to her side, he could feel the nerves play off her – the whole loving thing was new to them both. While they reveled in it, they also mistrusted the intensity even though they implicitly trusted one another. Hell, at times even he worried that their friendship and romance would break, although time and circumstance had tried… and failed.

Staring into her eyes, Tony watched a myriad of emotions pool together. Few would recognize the insecurity of the woman beneath the fighter. Yet it existed. He'd come to accept it and to some degree even cherish it. Because it matched his own so closely.

Carefully setting the cup down with a clank on the marble countertop, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and stared deeper – harder. "I was thinking how lucky I am," he replied. "I was thinking how wonderful this year is going to be."

When she smiled in response to his statement, Tony asked, "Do you remember last Christmas? You started asking me about family. I didn't answer you."

"Yes," she softly responded. "You would not answer."

"No," he corrected, his voice a bare whisper. "I _could_ not answer. It cut too deep."

A moment passed and they stared into each others' eyes. Finally, Ziva voiced the question nagging at her. "Tell me the difference between then and here?"

Chuckling, Tony drawled, "_Now_. Then and _now_." Rubbing a thumb across her lower lip, he watched as she turned her face into his hand and closed her eyes. How could he possibly explain? Yet since telling her how much he loved her, Tony had watched her insecurities rush to the surface. She needed to hear the words and the sincerity behind them, and he couldn't deny her.

"Do you remember last Christmas – after the entire team watched the movie together?" he asked.

"Yes," Ziva replied. "I came back hours later because I forgot something. You were still working."

With heat rushing into his face, Tony admitted, "You, McGee, Abby… even Ducky and Gibbs… no one asked me to do anything after the movie. You all went home or to parties, and I... It was too lonely at home."

"You could have come to my place," Ziva admonished with a stern frown. "You could have spent the night."

"I did," Tony stated.

"Only after I dragged you away from work, Tony."

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Tony said, "I remember."

**X X X**

He still wasn't sure just how they'd ended up back at her place – particularly since he'd really been enjoying himself. The movie, _It's a Wonderful Life_, had always been his favorite. The joviality amongst the group of NCIS agents and scientists had been fun and relaxing.

The edge hadn't begun to cut into him until people started leaving. Pretty soon, Tony had found himself alone and sitting at his desk. A couple of times, he'd tried to leave, but Ziva's nagging questions about his life had dug that pit of sheer loneliness even deeper. Every time he thought about his apartment, he blew out a sigh and picked up more paperwork to complete.

"I forgot my present from Abby," Ziva stated as she bound into the bullpen. With a quizzical expression she asked, "Why are you still here?"

Without looking up, he retorted, "Working. What does it look like?"

It annoyed the hell out of Tony when Ziva snuck up on him.

"Come home with me," she whispered into his ear, making him jump. Turning his head, he glared.

When her lips quirked up in challenge, Tony weakly replied, "I should get these forms done."

"No," she replied, her voice dropping a seductive octave as she subtly leaned toward him – not enough to appear out-of-line on the security cameras, but enough to know she'd grabbed his attention. The slight swelling in his slacks betrayed her affect on him. She really liked the effect, too. After all, she'd had plenty of opportunities over the last weeks to experience it, since they'd begun their affair. What had started with the intent to burn out a flaming desire had only built it higher and higher. Both of them felt the addiction to the nights they spent together, and carefully put it aside in the light of day.

He vaguely noted the drive. Shit, he kept his eyes closed most of the time because if he didn't he'd die of a heart attack. The woman's driving was lunatic. In the first 2.7 seconds, he noted three different ways they nearly crashed. So instead, he shut his eyes and opened them when she pulled to a screeching halt in her parking spot.

Shooting out of the car, he started to grumble, only to find Ziva had already rounded the car. When she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and latched onto his mouth with hers, Tony groaned. She always tasted so good; and something about the texture of her mouth drew him in hard and deep. In seconds, he drove his tongue inside and ravished. So damn good.

"I want you," she panted with gulping breaths.

With a feral smile, Tony picked her up and felt her legs wrap around him. Screw the neighbors – screw the Mossad cameras that probably watched Ziva's every move. They wanted each other. If someone had a problem with that, too damn bad. Every heart beat singed his nerves and somewhere below the surface, desperation swelled.

Several minutes later, he carried her to her front door and reluctantly let her down. Everything about her made him ache. He'd become painfully hard as she'd ground into him on the way up.

Slamming inside her apartment, he barely remembered to kick the door closed. They tugged and yanked at each others' clothes, ripping some in the process. Neither cared. The feel and taste of skin was sought and found. Together they moved frantically to the bedroom.

She needed his weight on her. He needed her scent.

Everything became a frenzied blur until that moment when he lay between her thighs. Very slowly he slipped into her as her eyes closed. Inch by inch, he slid in until he'd buried himself in her wet heat. When her eyes opened a fraction, Tony felt empowered by the hazy lust shining intently.

"More," she groaned. As she raised her hips, he couldn't help but moan in response. It felt so good…

Withdrawing slowly, he thrust hard and fast, listening to the mewling whimpers that escaped Ziva. The sounds she made mixed with the scent of her sex in the air, leaving a lingering aphrodisiac that made him growl.

Tony began to move faster, harder, more intently, taking a moment to pay close attention to her breasts. Leaning down, he latched onto a hardened peak with his lips, and she suddenly clenched around him.

Groaning, he thrust into her harder, faster. Her walls began to spasm around him. Then he was spilling into her – the groan turning to a moan of release.

Panting, Tony collapsed onto her, crushing her into the sheets.

The feel of her lips gently kissing his shoulder made him turn his head and stare intently.

Without a word, he rolled off and gathered Ziva into his arms. Pulling up the blankets, he covered them and let himself slowly drift. This day – this season – would end, and another one would start. Just one thing nagged him as he drifted off to sleep.

Why was he still lonely?

**X X X**

"I had no idea," Ziva whispered, reliving that time in her memory. It had been quite a few months ago, but she recalled everything clearly. Their affair had been casual until then, and even after. Until not long ago, she treated Tony like a casual lover. The time they spent together breathed new life into her, and at the same time made her vulnerable. Sure, she recognized the weakness she had for her partner – she would be a fool not to acknowledge it. It was just that she never expected to find something so absolutely lovely in _him_, making _him_ the one person she could not see living without. She never expected to fall in love with him.

That he showed her the pieces and parts that made up the weak, sad man in front of her humbled Ziva, because he didn't share easily or willingly. Yet, he gave her parts of himself in trust that she knew he'd given no other. Like his fears.

"I've gotten good at being… self-contained," Tony said. Lowering his forehead to hers, he whispered, "I know it's summer, but I keep thinking about Christmas – about how different this Christmas might be."

Smiling slightly, he pulled his head back and stared intently.

"Do you still feel alone?" she asked, matching his gaze.

"No," he replied, kissing her softly. Drawing her close, he held her tightly in her embrace and sighed.

"I haven't felt alone in awhile."


End file.
